


you make the latitudes and longitudes

by AwayLaughing



Category: Young Justice (Cartoon)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Drug Use, Fluff and Angst, Multi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-01-25
Updated: 2013-01-25
Packaged: 2017-11-26 20:19:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,807
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/654037
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AwayLaughing/pseuds/AwayLaughing
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Roy starts receiving postcards from an unknown person and bring with them the ghost of Wally West, who went missing three years past. Roy knows it's his disappeared friend, but the why and from where remains a mystery. One he is determined to solve. - From the YJ anon meme</p>
            </blockquote>





	you make the latitudes and longitudes

**Première**

 

“He really does love you Roy,” Dinah and he had rehashed this conversation a million times over and still she persisted. “You're like a son to him he just, he never expected to be a dad to someone.”

 

“Yeah well,” Roy yanked open his mailbox with more force than necessary, almost letting the phone fall as he did so, “sorry to be an inconvenience.”

 

“Roy,” she said, following it up with an impatient sigh, “you know that's not what I - Ollie no he doesn't want to talk to me right now let alone you...no Ollie just-fine, yes I'll tell him. Roy?”

 

“Still here,” Roy flipped through the massive pile of bills, newspapers and other little things that had accumulated while he'd been away for the week, “what did he want?”

 

“He wanted me to remind you Sunday is still on.”

 

“Is it really? Did he call to remind me or to tell me to take note that lowly police officers aren't invited?” if he sounded bitter it was only because he was.

 

“Roy, he didn't mean it like that and you know it.” Roy finished with going through his mail as he dutifully ignored Dinah's snort of derision and the annoyance she was actually palpably sending through the phones, landing on a post card.

 

“Hey Dinah,” the postcard was standard for Paris, a picture of the Eiffel tower in the background and a dancing young woman's silhouette in the front. “Do we know anyone in Paris right now?” he flipped the postcard over as he spoke, his eyes landing on the message for no more than a second before realization struck.

 

“What? Not that I know of why-” Roy cut her off, his voice almost panicked sounding.

 

“I should go Dinah, bye.” He snapped his phone shut without waiting for a reply and stared down at the postcard in numb shock.

 

“ _These things are awful,” Roy glared down at the croissant in his hand, “they're drier that the goddamn Sahara.”_

 

“ _Dere nah dat bad,” Wally told him through a mouth full of dry pastry and rehydrated strawberries. Roy gave him a look of disgust and Wally swallowed dutifully, washing it all down with the chocolate milk Roy had bought him. “Look on the bright side,” Wally offered, “it's better than Dinah's cooking. Or my mom's.”_

 

“ _True,” Roy continued to stare down at his school provided breakfast for a moment before sighing. “Here,” he shoved the food at Wally, “you're a bottomless pit kid.”_

 

_Wally gave him a huge, blinding grin before shoving the croissant in his mouth, chewing while rapidly scribbling notes in the margins of Roy's chemistry homework. “'S not bad Roy,” Wally told him, “just remember that in Faraday's law the weight of any element liberated via electrolysis is not only proportionate to the equivalent weight of the element but the_ quantity _of the electricity passing through the cell.”_

 

“ _Why are you a freshman?” Roy was frowning again, exasperation obvious and Wally looked a little sheepish, “this is senior chemistry work.”_

 

“ _Sorry,” the freckled boy looked down guiltily at his almost gone chocolate milk, “I just-”_

 

“ _Shut up Wally, I asked you to correct it, I'm just amazed they haven't bumped you up a grade or something.”_

 

_Wally laughed at that, his sheepishness gone and he threw his last hunk of croissant at Roy. “I'm not that smart. My English mark is barely a B,” he pointed out, “and come on, the bell's gonna go in five minutes.”_

 

_Roy, having retrieved the piece of croissant from his lap, popped the food in his mouth, chewing obnoxiously, revenge for the etiquette lessons he'd spent all morning complaining about up until they'd arrived at the school. “Barely a B? Keener,” he said despairingly, ruffling Wally's hair and ignoring the younger boy's squawk, “let's go. The sooner we get to class the sooner we can leave this place forever.” He stood, grabbing his and Wally's wrappers, “and then you and I can leave behind this city,” Wally brightened at that, “we'll go to Paris and have actual croissants.”_

 

“ _You're all talk Roy,” Wally was teasing, Roy knew._

 

“ _I'll take you anywhere you need to go Wally,” he said, completely serious._

 

_Wally blinked at the promise, pausing in his movements only briefly before smiling again. “And I'll always_ _follow you_ _,” he promised._

 

Slamming his apartment door, and ignoring the immediate shouts of outrage that sparked from his neighbour, Roy threw all the mail except the postcard onto the dinning room table.

 

_Roy_

 

_How are you? Good I hope. Paris in spring smells like dog crap, don't let anyone tell you otherwise, but the croissants are good._

 

_Please forgive me._

 

And that was it, no name at the bottom, nothing to indicate who it was other than the annoying habit of making his _y_ s too thin, as if they had to be shoved in between the letters somehow. Frustration, not just at this mysterious and too vague postcard but also at Dinah and Oliver and himself welled up and in a fit of pique Roy ripped the message in half, the woman no longer staring at the Eiffel tower. Taking a deep breath he looked at the two pieces and after a moment let them drop.

 

**Vtoroi**

 

Roy and his partner, a blonde woman with dark eyes with whom he has yet to have a civil conversation, stood behind the two way mirror, watching the scumbag they'd help bring in.

 

“Ass,” Artemis Crock was not, for once, talking to Roy, and he was forced to agree.

 

“Selling drugs at a fucking kids park,” he shook his head, “real piece of work.”

 

“No kidding,” she pushed away from the glass, turning to look at him, “should I take this or do you want it.”

 

Roy wanted it, he loved watching men like Denis Craig squirm, but he knew he had been in a bad mood the last few weeks and that the police department would skin him alive for any type of misconduct. With his history it was a miracle he had the job in the first place.

 

“You can have it,” he said, jamming his hands in his pockets. “I've got shit that needs doing.”

 

“Good news for me then,” she said easily, “have fun Harper.” Her smirk said she knew why he was letting her have it.

 

“Oh thanks a lot Crock,” he said, even as he pulled his jacket on, “try not to break a nail when you lose your temper and beat Craig to a pulp, 'kay?”

 

“Fuck you,” she spat, likely ready to add more but Roy had already let the door slam behind him.

 

In the parking lot his bike was sitting innocently, waiting for her rider and despite himself Roy grinned, patting the seat once before tugging on his helmet and climbing up while si moultaniously tugging his helmet on. Revving the engine once, twice he kicked off, swerving into the light Sunday traffic, relishing the dulled roar of the wind and his motor in his ears, the thrum of his engine and resolutely ignoring the fact that his back still felt cold after three years.

 

_The lights of the West house were out, not so surprising a_ _s_ _it was almost one, but the moon was bright enough that Roy was easily able to spot the figure dropped from the tree outside the window to the far left onto the frost hardened ground and then all but bolted for him._

 

_Without waiting for an invitation, not that he needed one, Wally all but launched himself onto the motorcycle, scrambling to unhook the cargo bag so he could actually put the spare helmet on and sit. Finally, after a few uncharacteristic curses and a rather sharp elbow to Roy's back, Wally's forehead met the space between Roy's shoulder blades, thin, shaking arms locking around the taller boy's waist._

 

“ _Just drive,” Wally sounded half tired, half furious and half desperate, and Roy didn't bother asking where Wally wanted to go, the answer was always the same_ _._ _A_ _way._

 

Running up the apartment stairs, instinctively skipping the third to top stair because it was rotting, and reminding himself to fix it since the landlord obviously wasn't going to, Roy all but slammed the front door of his apartment closed before he allowed himself to look at the postcard that had been left in his mailbox.

 

St. Petersburg.

 

_Roy._

 

_They call the church on the front The Church on Spilled Blood. Quite the name really, I think you'd like here though._

 

_I_ am _sorry. Hopefully one day you'll stop hating me._

 

Breathing harshly through his nose Roy stared at the church on the front, it's beauty not quite able to overcome the fact that Roy now knew it's name, giving it an air of sadness, aided by the lack of people on the shiny front. After a moment he stuck to the fridge with a magnet reading “Greg's! Gotham's finest sports gear!” next to a taped up picture of a lonely looking girl staring at the Eiffel tower.

 

**Dritt**

 

Sitting in his apartment at three am on a Friday scouring google for any mention of Wally West isn't something Roy has done since 2009 when the other had disappeared. It was also as not-fun now as it was then. “Fuck Wally.” Talking to himself wasn't something Roy did often, but Wally was always the one person who made him act and feel like someone completely different. “Fuck you.”

 

It felt good to say, he'd spent too many years of wondering if the other was dead, worrying he was, to curse him, just in case he was actually no longer among the living, but now Roy knew, he knew. And goddammit if he wasn't pissed.

 

Across from him one of the neighbourhood strays had managed to get in, obviously the window locks were shit, and stared at him with wide eyes, unblinking.

 

“What?” he demanded, “Wally went and fucked off without a word and he-” he stopped himself, slamming his hand onto the sofa, ignoring the beast's reproachful look, “it's like some sort of twisted revenge.”

 

“ _Hey Roy,” Wally's hand was clutching at Roy's in an almost painful fashion, the sixteen year old pale as he looked at his friend. “Long time no see.”_

 

“ _Yeah,” Roy's voice was scratchy from disuse and improper use and a lack of water and he watched in mild alarm as Wally fumbled with the pitcher of water, spilling some, only making his fumbling worse. “Hey,” Roy was aware of how thin his hand was, how it shook, and he was aware of how Wally shook. “Slow down, you're always trying to go too fast.”_

 

_Wally blinked once, twice, three times at that, as if battling down tears. “I've been told,” Wally was trying to be his usual upbeat self, trying hard, Roy could see, and it made him a little pissed off. At himself not Wally._

 

_Roy had always prided himself on being the one person in Wally's life who'd never made the other boy cry._

 

“ _God,” Wally was way too close to crying by that point. Roy, for all the fact he was shaky and going through withdrawal and his whole body was revolting against him had never felt more uncomfortable managed to squeeze a thin knee tightly. “Roy, you, you should have called me.”_

 

“ _I was so,”_ tempted _he wanted to say, “so fucked up Wally and I couldn't,”_ handle you thinking less of me _, “_ _I just couldn't.”_

 

“ _I'd have come, I'd have come in a heart beat and I would have helped and you could have stayed with Aunt Iris and Uncle Barry and if they said no I'd, I don't know go with you to make sure you were okay,” Wally spoke in a rush, because Wally_ was _always rushing things and Roy said nothing, shocked. “You were gone a year,” he said, voice a whimper, “and I-”_

 

“ _Wally.”_

 

“ _Roy,” he looked so miserable, standing next to Roy, cup and pitcher still in hand, and Roy felt guilty for thinking it was the most beautiful thing he'd seen in a very long time. More beautiful than Dinah standing the doorway of a grungy L.A hotel, relief and fury and horror warring on her face._

 

“ _I'm sorry Wally,” he'd let the other down, he knew that, and it hurt a hell of a lot more than letting Oliver and his giant expectations down, because Wally's expectations were so much smaller and should have been easier to carry._

 

“ _No,” Wally poured the water carefully this time, pressing the cup into Roy's hand but not letting go, guiding it, “I'm sorry.”_

 

“Fucking Wally.” Roy was angry, mostly because he didn't want to be sad, “as if postcards make up for,” he felt the cat looking at him expectantly and Roy stopped himself. “You're a cat,” he told the animal seriously, “surely even you realize three years is a long time for nothing but unsigned postcards from random cities in Europe.”

 

The cat's tail swished once.

 

“You – Jesus Christ I'm talking to a cat,” he buried his head in his hands for a moment, tugging slightly at his hair before looking up, eyes landing on the fridge where postcard number three was sharing a magnet with the one from Paris.

 

_Geneva, home of the peace treaty. I swear I didn't pick it on purpose. I don't expect much. It's a nice city though, the lake is pretty but freezing cold, I'm told._

 

_I can't remember if you ever told me your opinion on the adage, “everything happens for a reason”._

 

Powering down the laptop Roy stood, ready to go to bed. The car jumped down from the window sill as he did so, racing him to his bed. Usually Roy would have kicked it out but instead he stuff the window and followed the animal, not bothering to wonder how it knew where he slept.

 

Three years of cold beds was a long time, so he'd take any warmth he could get.

 

**Vierde**

 

Dinah didn't knock before entering the apartment, she had a key for a reason. The place wasn't as much of a disaster as one would assume. Yes, there were empty pizza boxes around, but at least they were only in the kitchen. The lack of dishes was nice, even if it was only because Roy couldn't cook and so didn't dirty any, and she showed her appreciation for that fact by placing a small brown bag on the counter.

 

“Roy?” upon the lack of answer she headed to his bedroom, opening the door and entering without bothering to be quieter. “Get up, it's noon.”

 

“Shit Dinah,” Roy sat up fairly quickly, he'd always had a fast reaction time, “I just got home at 2 am you know.”

 

“Not my problem kiddo,” she said wryly, “I'm taking you out into the world of the living. We'll get some food into that isn't pizza or beer.”

 

“Dinah,” Roy was awake for real now, scratching at his head, “you'll never manage the no beer part.”

 

Glaring slightly she picked up a pair of jeans and threw them at him. “And, because one of us has to be an adult we're doing you're laundry too.”

 

Roy stood, tugging the jeans on and rolling his eyes. “And by we you mean me.”

 

“Naturally,” she was smiling now, something Roy appreciated, “you've got mail, by the way.”

 

That got his attention. Dinah was amused to see him haul a plain red shirt on with much more gusto than necessary. “Any postcards?” he demanded, anxious.

 

“Yeah actually, does this have anything to do with why you asked me about Paris last time we talked on the phone?”

 

“Everything,” he said, pulling on socks, “what city?”

 

“Amsterdam,” she said, “why?”

 

“Because,” he muttered, heading to the living room, “it doesn't make any sense.”

 

“What doesn't?” Dinah demanded, following behind and Roy made an aggravated sound as he went through the motions of making coffee, grinning briefly at bag of coffee Dinah had brought with her.

 

“The city order,” he explained, “Paris, St. Petersburg, Geneva and now Amsterdam. There's no relation other than being in Europe, or at least foreign if you want to be picky and say St. Petersburg is in Eurasia.”

 

“Who are they from?” it was a valid question, yes, but Roy felt suddenly embarrassed by it, and that lead to him being a little pissed by it.

 

“Technically,” he said darkly, “I don't know.”

 

Dinah raised an eyebrow, leaning against the counter, “technically? Isn't it signed?”

 

“No,” Roy admitted, “but,” he paused, “Wally.”

 

That caught Dinah by surprise and she stood up straight. “Wally? Roy I know y-”

 

“I know Wally,” Roy whirled around as he spoke, agitation obvious from the way he held the coffee filter as if he were trying to murder it, “I know his writing and I know him.”

 

“You do,” Dinah admitted after a moment, “I know you do.”

 

“ _Should we intervene?” Oliver and Dinah had never, not once, claimed they were parent material. Dinah was mature enough, sure, but she couldn't cook, which would have been okay but neither could Oliver, and her temper wasn't exactly negligible. Likewise Oliver was impulsive, immature and strong headed._

 

_Now they were hovering outside of Roy's door, ears all but pressed against the wood trying to find out who he'd snuck in._

 

“ _It could be a girl,” Dinah wasn't opposed to Roy bringing home girls, he was seventeen and a healthy young boy, but she knew, on a basic level, intervention was expected. At the very least she had to tell him about the troubles with teen pregnancies and offer to buy him condoms if he was too embarrassed. Oliver could explain lubricant._

 

“ _So yes,” Ollie sounded resigned, and after a moment they stood straight up. Giving each other a long hard look they nodded in agreement and Oliver knocked. “Roy,” he said as firmly as possible, “we're coming in.”_

 

_It was alarmingly anticlimactic._

 

_Roy was, as expected, sitting on his bed looking annoyed at the whole thing. What was unexpected was the fact that he was fully dressed, though he'd obviously changed because his hair was wet, and there was not a girl in sight. Instead, sitting on a chair in the corner not far from the bed was another boy, also fully dressed and with wet hair._

 

_The wasn't anyone they knew though. He was younger than Roy with wide green eyes and hair just as red as the older boy. He was also dressed in Roy's clothing, the pants too big covering all the way down to his bare toes and the arms of his shirt hanging over his hands, the shoulder slipping slightly._

 

“ _I wasn't prepared for boys,” Ollie hissed to Dinah, “not that I care but still, didn't see it coming.”_

 

_Dinah couldn't fault him for that. “Hello,” she said to the boy, “you must be Roy's uh,” she didn't quite know what to call him._

 

“ _He's fourteen,” was Roy's dark reply, “so friend.”_

 

“ _Good choice,” Oliver replied helpfully and the fourteen year old flushed bright red._

 

“ _I should go Roy, I don't know where aunt Iris is but I'm sure she'll be along and her apartment has an awning so I'll be fine and thanks for the clothing I was soaking I'll get them back to you later,” he spoke in a rush, not pausing to take a breath and Roy, expression turned not quite so mutinous as he looked at the boy and rolled his eyes._

 

“ _Sit down Wally,” he ordered, “you're not going anywhere.”_

 

“ _He's not?” Oliver was more confused then objecting._

 

“ _I'm not?” Wally was mildly alarmed but obviously pleased._

 

“ _No and no,” that wasn't Roy at all actually, but rather Dinah, who may not claim to be maternal, but was more than a decent enough person that sending fourteen year olds out into the middle of a tropical storm at almost one am on a Friday night offended her deeply. That was just asking for trouble, or a cold. Or both. “Wally we'll make you up a bed here in Roy's room or in the living room if you prefer and I'll call your aunt to explain the situation.”_

 

“ _Oh uh,” Wally looked a little guiltily at Dinah and Olive and then Roy, digging his bare toes into the rug. “You don't have to bother aunt Iris, she wasn't exactly expecting me.”_

 

_Oliver, catching on quickly to the Obligatory Parental Moment, gave the nervous boy a smile. “Then we'll have to call your folks and make sure they know you haven't been kidnapped.”_

 

“ _Don't bother,” Roy was back to glaring sullenly at Oliver, Dinah and every air particle in the room, “I had to sneak out so I could go get Wally from track practise.”_

 

“ _At ten pm?”_

 

“ _He'd been waiting since four,” was the sour reply and Wally gave him a mildly angry glare._

 

“ _Don't be like that Roy, they're just busy and-”_

 

“ _Don't Wally,” Roy said seriously._

 

“ _No, you don't, Roy,” Wally wasn't as foreboding as Roy, but the hurt tone certainly shut the older teen up._

 

“ _Fine,” Dinah was half sure she should tell Roy not to grind his teeth but it seemed unnecessary at the moment, and she was a little too charmed at how Wally had the Navajo teen wrapped around one skinny pinky, and a little too angry at the boy's parents to chide anyone properly._

 

“ _Alright,” Oliver was at least trying to diffuse the situation, thankfully lacking Dinah's sense of outrage pertaining to that particular topic. “Well go I'll set up the couch, how about it?”_

 

“ _I'll take the floor, Wally can have my bed,” Roy's offer seemed to surprise even him, and Wally's ire evaporated quicker than morning dew._

 

“ _You don't have to do that Roy,” he said, trying to beat back a smile, “I can deal with the couch.” That argument lasted about five minutes with Roy the victor in the end. Shaking their heads Oliver and Dinah exited quietly._

 

“ _That Wally kid is cute,” Oliver mused, and Dinah was more than forced to agree when she went to wake the boys up the next morning only to find the smaller redhead curled up on the floor with Roy, his head tucked under Roy's chin, sleeping soundly._

 

“Since you know him so well, are the cities really random?”

 

Sighing Roy shook his head, going to run a hand through his hair only to realize he was still holding the filter. “No, Wally is a little spastic but he's methodical when he wants to be, science nerd thing I think.”

 

“Paris, St. Petersburg, Geneva, Amsterdam, in that order?” she asked, and when she nodded she hummed in thought.

 

“Maybe it's in the message? He leaves notes right?”

 

Nodding Roy picked the postcard up from the top of the mail pile, reading it once to himself before passing it to her.

 

_Roy,_

 

_God, I miss you. This city reminds me of all the ways we've fucked ourselves over, it's like salt in a wound. I messed up, I know._

 

_I always told you my only talents were science and running._

 

“Anything?” she asked and Roy shook his head, lips pressed tight as he turned back so he could finish the coffee. She watched him finish up, noting the tenseness of his back and sighed to herself, coming up to wrap him in a hug. “We'll figure it out Roy,” she said.

 

Roy didn't try and shoot down her wishful thinking nor did he try and agree, but she thought he relaxed slightly into her hug, and for now that was enough.

 

**F** **ü** **ntf**

 

“This is your apartment?” Roy was barely able to choke down the sarcastic reply that no, he'd brought the guy to a random stranger's place instead. “Does your water work?”

 

_Dick,_ Roy thought uncharitably, _what a dick._ “Yes,” he ground out, suddenly regretting giving in to his libido. The other man was attractive with dark hair and bright blue eyes, carefully picked to have neither red hair nor green eyes, and his posh, Gotham accent that gave him away as a socialite hiding behind his sunglasses in a dark club. That failed to make up for the fact that he was apparently a total dick, right down to not wanting to give his name, as if anyone in one of Seattle's scummier clubs would have cared one wit.

 

“Sweet.” That wasn't, admittedly, what Roy had been expecting and amused blue eyes hit his. “My water only works sometimes, and it's only hot on Friday mornings and Sunday.” Seeing Roy's disbelieving look he shrugged, “I live in Blüdhaven, I'm training as a police officer.”

 

Roy wanted to laugh at that, the son of someone rich who left home to become a poor police officer. Seemed familiar somehow. “I left Star City to become an environmental lawyer in Chicago,” he said, his way of apologizing for his previously uncharitable thoughts.

 

“You're in Seattle,” the blue eye boy pointed out, laughter in his voice.

 

“I quite law school when I was twenty one and moved here, I work for Seattle PD now.”

 

“Did you take time off to travel?” the Gothamite appeared to have a short attention span because he was all but pressed against Roy's fridge, studying the postcards.

 

“No,” Roy said dully, “they're from,” he paused, searching, “a friend.”

 

“You don't sound very confident.”

 

“He disappeared,” Roy admitted, “this is the first I've heard from him in three years.” The boy's blue eyes flicked over to the photo of Roy and Wally the redhead had sort of subconsciously clustered the postcards around.

 

“Were you dating?”

 

“No.”

 

“ _Jesus Wally,” Roy barely managed to catch the giggling red head before he hit the concrete. “You're drunk!”_

 

“ _Very,” Wally agreed, “not my fault though.”_

 

_Roy, grunting slightly as he shifted the other into a better position, arched an eyebrow. “Oh? So what, someone forced the drink down your throat?”_

 

“ _Di'n't watch my coke well enough,” was the mumbled reply, “'m a lightweight.”_

 

“ _Obviously,” together they couldn't even make it two steps, Wally too heavy and uncoordinated for Roy to support with one arm. Feeling annoyed that he had to resort to piggy backs Roy sighed. “Try not to sway for a moment,” he ordered and Wally giggled as he tried to comply. Eventually Roy managed to get the other onto his back, Wally slumping so that his chin rested on Roy's shoulder, arms sticking out stiffly. “You're chin is fucking bony,” Roy muttered as they walked down the silent street, the sound of the still going party Wally had begged him to come save him from retreating into the distance._

 

“ _Sorry,” was the mumbled reply, Wally's breath hot on Roy's neck, making the older boy's hair stand on end. “Thanks fer comin' to get me.”_

 

_Roy didn't answer right away, letting the stuttering sound of the cricket's overtake the thud of bass. “Wally, you sounded pretty desperate when you called, something happen?”_

 

“ _Was drunk,” came the muffled reply, Wally now speaking into his neck, “this guy-”_

 

“ _Did he hurt you?” the fury in Roy's voice penetrated even Wally's drunken fog._

 

“ _N-no,” Wally didn't sound very sure and Roy tried to bite back his anger. “'s just grabby.”_

 

“ _Fucker,” Roy hissed, “little shit.”_

 

“ _'S okay Roy,” Wally insisted, shifting slightly in Roy's grasp so his chin was slightly over Roy's shoulder, nose pressed to Roy's cheek, breath fanning across his jaw. “Knew you'd come.”_

 

“ _Always,” Roy promised, “always.” Now a little over a block away Roy heard the sound of sirens as cops showed up to put the fear of God, or at least the law, into overly loud teens. “Good thing you called when you did though,” he was doing a miserable job of lightening the mood, he knew, but he was frazzled and on edge with the thought of someone touching Wally and the way Wally's breath kept warming his jaw._

 

_Wally didn't reply, and they continued on for no more than a minute when they heard the roll of a slowing car. “Cops,” Wally muttered, and Roy resisted the urge to swear._

 

“ _Pretend you're asleep,” he told Wally. He took the other's lack of reply as a compliance._

 

“ _Boys,” Roy came to a stop as the cop rolled down his window, smiling heartily. “Nice night for a walk.”_

 

“ _Sure is,” that wasn't a lie, at least, “can we help you?”_

 

“ _Oh probably not,” the man smiled at them, “you or you're friend know anything about that party a street over?”_

 

_Roy shook his head, “nope. We were out late practising soccer with some friends, Wally hurt his ankle.”_

 

_The cop shook his head, “shouldn't be out so late playing in the dark. You need a drive to the hospital?”_

 

“ _Nah,” Roy was getting annoyed at the friendly cop routine because Wally's breath was warm and a little moist and doing things Roy was having a hard time ignoring. “He's tough, he'll heal fine.”_

 

“ _If you're sure, have a good night.” the cop gave another nod before pulling away from the curb, Roy caught sight of the three drunk girls slumped over each other in the back seat as they car passed by fully. Sighing in relief Roy spotted the car he'd parked a few streets away from the party as to avoid detection lest something like what just happened had come to pass while near the party. He certainly didn't need cops demanding breathalysers from him and Wally as they tried to drive away._

 

_They got home, or to Roy's house, without incident after that, and Wally was fast asleep when Roy managed to deposit him on Roy's bed. Immediately the seventeen year old curled up onto his side and Roy felt a pang of utter adoration for the other, one that curled in his stomach and left him over-warm and breathless. Shaking his head at his own pitiful reactions Roy tugged off Wally's worn shoes before exiting the room._

 

_The hall was cooler than Roy's room but he remained over heated, his shirt itching his chest and his jaw where Wally had kept breathing was tingling. Swearing he tore off his shirt and rubbed at his jaw, trying to keep back the sudden image of an equally shirtless Wally pressed to his front and panting harshly._

 

_It didn't work and Roy was left standing outside his room, eyes squeezed closed as his cock twitched to life. On a basic level he knew he could ignore it and it would go away, he wasn't fourteen anymore after all. On an only slightly more complex level there was the fact he hadn't had sex in almost three months and every place Wally had been pressed against him at any point in the last half hour was growing warm and itchy despite the irrationality and ridiculousness of it._

 

_In the end he at least had enough selfrespect to go to the bathroom instead of jacking off in the hall._

 

_He kept the lights off and his back to the mirror, tugging his pants down in aggravation._ This is bad Roy, _he told himself dryly,_ even for you. _Naturally that didn't stop him and he spent no more than five minutes with his cock in one hand, images of Wally, lean and sweaty and writhing, flashing across his vision before he felt his stomach muscles tighten._

 

_When he finally came the bite marks in his unoccupied fist were close to bleeding._

 

_His room was still unbearably warm when Roy returned to open the window, and he had to lean over the bed and Wally to force the lock open. Beneath him Wally, with his legs tangled in the bedding, murmured in his sleep and, with an almost preternatural precision, locked his fingers into Roy's shirt collar, tugging him down._

 

_Roy was not a strong enough man to resist that, and so he ended up with Wally breathing against his neck again, warm hands locked into the twenty year_ _old’s_ _shirt while Roy allowed himself to pull the other closer despite the summer heat._

 

“So why'd he leave?” Roy could see why the Gotham boy wanted to be a police officer.

 

“No clue,” Roy growled, any desire to have sex now completely gone.

 

“Why'd he wait tell now to contact you?”

 

“I. Don't. Know.”

 

“Where is he?”

 

“Why do you care?” Roy's temper got the better of him and he barely managed not to lob the conveniently placed, and very heavy, paper weight Oliver had bought as some sort of lame present several years back.

 

“Curious,” was the frank reply, “the cities seem a bit random.”

 

“Tell me something I don't know,” Roy realized he wasn't going to dissuade the other from asking questions so he sat down at his table, resting his head in his hands. “I know Wally, there has to be a pattern but I-”

 

“The last letter.”

 

“...what?”

 

“Paris ends in s,” the boy said, “St. Petersburg starts with s and ends in g. Geneva starts with g and ends with a. Amsterdam-”

 

“Starts with a. How the fuck did you notice that?” Roy was suddenly sure Blüdhaven's arrests would go once the kid back an officer.

 

The other shrugged, sliding in across from Roy. “My legal guardian is a total details freak,” he said sheepishly. “My homework was flawless as a kid.”

 

“Shit,” Roy suddenly felt both elated and drained.

 

Munich started with m.

 

_Roy._

 

_Munich is rainy as anything, but it's sort of nice actually. There's a river that runs through it, people are always out around it even in rain showers._

 

_I_

 

The rest of the message was scratched out and Roy didn't really want his guest around once he got around to figuring out the last few words.

 

“So,” the other paused, trying to think of European cities that started with h, “Helsinki?”

 

“I suppose,” Roy couldn't think of any other European city that started with h.

 

“Huh,” the other didn't sound so much stumped as he did disappointed, “I'm sorry but I cannot have sex with you now.”

 

Roy gave him a dry look. “We are far past that point,” he told the other seriously, “but since we've shared this heart warming moment, want to share your name?”

 

The other gave him a long, hard look before seemingly making up his mind. “Richard Grayson, call me Dick.”

 

Roy really could not hold back his laughter at that.

 

**Kuudes**

 

Roy was not pleased to see Oliver sitting on his couch, feet on the shitty coffee table and arms crossed. “Don't you have a job?” he demanded.

 

“Don't you?” Oliver shot back, standing up so as not to give Roy the height advantage.

 

“Not any more,” was the snapped reply and Oliver blinked in surprise, obviously not anticipating that response.

 

“Wha – you, _Roy_!”

 

“What?” Roy was the first person to admit his inability to have a civil conversation with Oliver was a failing, but he really did not care.

 

“You quit your job to run away to,” Oliver paused to look down at the plane ticket Roy had just realized he was holding, “ _Helsinki_.”

 

“What's wrong with Helsinki?” Roy knew he was avoiding the actual conversation Dinah had probably threatened Oliver into having. Oliver knew it too.

 

“It's in-no. No. We have to talk.” He took a few deep breaths to try and calm himself, but Roy was having none of that.

 

“No, I don't think we do, we haven't talked since,” he stopped himself, biting back on old grief and self hate.

 

Ollie flinched at that, remembering his own behaviour and how Dinah hadn't talked to him for almost a full two years after the fact. “I know, I was,” _wrong, a total ass, an abhorrent human being whatdoyouwantmetosay_ “I should have been there when no one else was.”

 

Roy seemed to sag ever so slightly for a moment before anger sprung up again. “You're so full of yourself,” he ground out, “I had people, Dinah, Wally, even his uncle Barry and his friend Hal were there for me at one point or another.” The implications, _Barry doesn't even like me and I'd never laid eyes on Hal Jordan before you utter bastard_ hung in the air.

 

“I,” Oliver didn't know what to say to that, didn't know how to talk to Roy, “why are you leaving?”

 

Roy turned away slightly, shoulder tense. “None of your damn business Oliver,” he said sharply.

 

Oliver knew the way the other was glaring at the door was a particularly unsubtle hint to leave but he soldiered on. “Dinah, Dinah mentioned Wally.”

 

Roy froze completely at that, and Oliver wanted to collapse back into the couch and hold his head in his hand because _Jesus Christ Wally West has been gone for three years and he still controls Roy's actions._ “Roy this is-”

 

“If you say crazy I. Will. Kill. You. I mean it,” Roy's posture was defensive and angry and hurt and Oliver wondered how the hell someone as flighty as he had managed to raise someone so unerringly loyal. He blamed Dinah.

 

“ _Heya Wally,” Oliver grinned at the fifteen year old bouncing on the spot and standing awkwardly in his hall. “You sleep over?”_

 

“ _Uh, yeah,” he looked a little embarrassed, “Roy's asleep.”_

 

“ _Right-o” Oliver gently grabbed a thin shoulder, leading Wally down the hall toward the kitchen. “I'm pretty much completely incompetent in the kitchen,” he warned, “but I can make eggs.”_

 

“ _Yum!” Wally was a sweet kid, Oliver had said it before but the way the promise of food made him light up made him a little suspicious, it was a little too happy even for a teenage boy._

 

_Trying to be subtle he let the boy drift over to the kitchen island while Oliver grabbed the eggs and turned the stove on. “You have supper last night?” he asked as casually as he could manage and Wally gave him a weird look._

 

“ _Yeah,” he said dubiously, “Roy bought me supper when he picked me up.”_

 

“ _Oh,” that still didn't make Oliver feel any better. “Your parents out of town?”_

 

_That made Wally look a little uncomfortable, looking down and tracing a pattern on the counter top. “Just busy again,” the way he muttered it made Oliver sigh. He was all for laissez-faire parenting if appropriate but Roy and Wally were very different creatures. Wally was the sort of kid who would gladly spend all day glued to your side if you indicated it was okay. Roy became cranky if you asked him how his day was. Unless of course you were Wally because the Laws of All Things Roy did not apply to the hyperactive teen._

 

“ _Busy huh? Shame.”_

 

“ _Who's busy?” Dinah half stumbled into the kitchen, scratching at her blonde hair as she did. “Good morning Wally,” without thinking she kissed the top of his messy red hair as she passed him, heading for the coffee Oliver had put on about half an hour before hearing Wally in the hall._

 

“ _Wally's parents,” Oliver said, judging the pan hot enough to properly fry the eggs. “Roy bought him supper last night.”_

 

“ _Oh,” Dinah sounded painfully unimpressed by that and Wally squirmed in his seat, face flushed._

 

“ _They were busy,” he protested feebly, Dinah gave Oliver a long Look which only ended when Roy came in, blinking sleep out of his eyes._

 

“ _Morning,” he muttered, “you sleep okay Wally?”_

 

_The younger teen nodded, looking confused but grateful for the change in topic. “Yeah, why?”_

 

“ _You shifted around all night,” Roy said simply and Dinah gave Oliver another Look over her coffee, this one less angry and much more amused, “were you too warm?”_

 

“ _No no,” Wally didn't look embarrassed by the line of question, “guess I was just dreaming.”_

 

_Roy's interest perked visibly at that, even as he sat next to the other trying to look casual. “What about?”_

 

“ _You know, I don't remember,” Oliver held back a snicker when Roy looked a little disappointed. “But it was definitely a good dream._

 

“ _Well, glad to hear it,” Roy said and Wally excused himself to use the bathroom._

 

“ _So,” Oliver knew he was smirking, “how did_ you _sleep Roy?”_

 

“ _Fine!” the other snapped, flushing. “And stop asking Wally about his parents, it bothers him.”_

 

_Dinah set down her coffee cup, “we just worry Roy, he's young.”_

 

_Roy glared a little at her, crossing his arms on the counter. “Don't bother,” he said firmly, “I'll take care of Wally.”_

 

_Oliver barely remembered to flip the eggs before they started burning as he wondered if Roy knew how damn possessive he sounded._

 

The awkward silence stretched out between them, Roy still angry and Oliver still unwilling to leave. “I hear Helsinki is nice in the spring,” he offered lamely after a few moments and Roy gave him a slightly bewildered stare. “It looks very green,” he said, looking to the postcard he'd noticed on Roy's fridge, “and uh, the harbour is pretty.” Roy continued to stare at him as if he'd started speaking Klingon. “What does it say?” he pointed to the postcard again.

 

_Roy._

 

_You were always there for me. I wasn't. God I'm a miserable human being._

 

_Still I-_

 

Once again it was scratched out so well Roy had no way of knowing what it said. “Nothing,” he admitted bitterly, “none of them really say anything.”

 

“Oh,” Oliver looked away. “So, Helsinki.”

 

“Yeah,” Roy's anger had dissipated and the sudden sound of paws hitting the floor caught their attention. “Hey Oliver?”

 

Oliver looked up from the grey feline who was happily twining around his feet. “Yeah Roy?”

 

“Will you take care of my cat for me?”

 

**B** **itmiş**

 

_The summer heat was oppressive, the sun shining high in the sky without so much as a wisp of cloud to protect from it's rays. Despite that Roy was more than glad to have Wally pressed up against him, red head on Roy's chest, babbling mindlessly about the velocity of bluebirds and the likely hood of rain actually falling._

 

_Roy wasn't listening, not really, but he wasn't ignoring the other. He was very much focused on the way the light filtered through the red strands of hair and the way Wally's skin had turned a lovely shade of golden-tanned after hours upon hours of sun._

 

“ _Roy?” Wally didn't move or get up, but he did tilt his head back, trying to look at Roy's face, “if you're bored just tell me.”_

 

“ _No,” it was a bit harsher than he'd meant to be, he usually was, “I'm fine. I don't care how improbable it is though, I want rain.”_

 

“ _Yeah,” Wally's sigh was wistful, green eyes turning back to the blue sky above them. “Hey Roy, could you ever hate me?”_

 

_Roy frowned at that, sitting up so he could actually look Wally in the fact, the red head blinking up from his new position in Roy's lap. “No,” that time it wasn't harsh, just serious and Wally flushed bright red, green eyes darting to the side. “Why would you ask that?”_

 

“ _I just,” Wally's still flushed, “what if something happened and,” he swallowed, cutting himself off. “No reason.”_

 

_Roy knew he was lying, knew something was wrong but Wally kept avoiding his gaze and Roy hated when Wally would look at him, so he let it go. “I couldn't Wally,” he said firmly, “I...you're my best friend.”_

 

_Wally's demeanour shifted at that, back to smiles and exuberance, “you're my best friend too,” he said so cheerfully Roy couldn't hold back a chuckle. They sat there for another few minutes on the hood of Wally's pickup before Wally started really feeling the weight of Roy's continued stare. “Roy?”_

 

“ _Wally,” without really thinking Roy brought his thumb up to trace of the still red bridge of Wally's nose, recognizing the heat coming off of it as a sun burn and making a note to pick up aloe vera cream when they got back into town. “I, you're,” his words stuck in his throat, and he was horrified to feel a blush of his own building up._

 

“ _Roy,” Wally was looking, really looking at Roy right then, “I know.”_

 

“ _You do?”_

 

_Wally nodded, green eyes bright, “yeah, I do.” Feeling robbed of his confession Roy just stared down at his friend, throat feeling tight._

 

“ _Do you mind?” he finally managed and Wally blinked at him, eyes widening, “because if so I can ju-”_

 

“ _No! Nonono!” Wally sat up, almost falling off the hood in an attempt to turn around, “Roy,” the way he breathed Roy's name made the older boy's skin prickle, his finger itch with the urge to touch, and he was actually surprised at himself when he pulled the other into a kiss._

 

_It wasn't a perfect kiss, Wally was caught of guard and their teeth clinked once at the beginning but Wally was just as receptive to this form of touching as he was to every other, melting into Roy, slightly clammy hands grabbing at Roy's arms. Because neither was expecting it and because it was so damn hot out, they run out of air quickly, Roy pulling back and pressing his nose to Wally's sun burnt one._

 

“ _Wally-”_

 

“ _Roy-” it wasn't a surprise that they were stumbling over each other even in their words and they traded sheepish looks because Roy opened his mouth to speak, only for a distant rumble to cut him off._

 

_Blinking they pulled apart completely, staring off to distance where they could see black clouds roiling to life, travelling quickly._

 

“ _Rain,” Wally said dumbly, and Roy gave him a lopsided grin._

 

“ _Miracles all around,” he said dryly, Wally's laughter echoing along the empty field._

 

Istanbul was hot. Roy had known that before he landed, knew it'd be hot and dry and dusty but still. Grumbling to himself he tried, and failed, to navigate the ancient city streets. He knew he was in the right area, at any rate, the postcard left for him at the Helsinki post office had said Galata, but it hadn't been any more specific then that.

 

All around him was a press of bodies, people talking rapidly in Arabic, Hebrew, Turkish, French and a hundred other languages. Feeling a little lost and very annoyed Roy forced himself to stop and take a look around. The buildings rose up around him, lining the streets and providing steps for people to congregate on while trams ran through the centre of the roads.

 

He eyed the various vendors and shops, watching a group of women chatter rapidly as they juggled mountains of bags, breath catching when he saw the flash of red hair from between one in a bright yellow dress and another with an obscenely long braid.

 

Ignoring the cars and other pedestrians Roy managed to cross the street without any unseemly accidents, only pausing to help the last of the women when one of her bags slipped, ignoring her as she presumably thanked him. The redhead's back was to him, hunched over a cup of something or other, facing the cafe where he'd presumably ordered it. No more than a few feet away, Roy thought to himself, and he couldn't even be sure it was Wally.

 

After all, there was more than one redhead in Istanbul, probably at least several hundred, and he hadn't seen Wally in three years. Despite that, Roy knew. Knew from the way he sat, back straight but obviously consciously held that way, foot tapping rapidly.

 

And suddenly Roy wanted to leave, run, never look back because it had been three years and nothing could possibly be the same and he maybe wanted Wally to hurt as deeply and for as long as Roy had been hurt, but he knew better. He was, after all, an adult now. Not the dumb kid who got hooked to heroine and ran off to L.A, not the naive teen who used to sneak out and collect Wally from the West's at twelve a.m and not the hot headed young adult who had quit school to find a boy who didn't want to be found. He was a fully grown and fairly mature adult about to make an important life decision, and he was damn well going to make the right one.

 

Roy knew that he'd fallen in love with Wally at the age of seventeen when Oliver had taken them camping and they'd stayed out under the stars, Wally cuddled to Roy's side, making up stories for the shapes they found. The three years difference between then them had seemed a life time, the three steps between them now just as large. A step for each year, which was stupid and inane and sounded like something Ollie would say, and that annoying thought is enough for him to distract himself so that like that day three years ago when he kissed Wally, he was surprised when he felt a shoulder under his hand.

 

Wally, it was definitely Wally and Roy felt his heart trying to crawl up out of his throat when he realized that, turned beautiful green eyes wide, lips parted in an 'o'. They stared at each other, neither sure of what to say until finally Wally twisted in his grasp, Roy instinctively tightening his hold lest the other try to escape.

 

“The coffee's good, cheap,” Roy's sense of outrage would usually demand the he be angry about the first words he heard from his best friend-so close to almost more- after three years of separation were, _the coffee's good_ , but he could not care less about _anything_ that wasn't at that point.

 

“Wally,” he said instead, exasperation obvious, letting go of the other's shoulder, sliding into the seat across from him, not knowing what else to say he repeated the other's name. “God Wally.”

 

“Roy,” Wally seemed to have a similar problem, but Roy felt an ache at the sound of his name from those lips, “I-Roy.” Wally looked astonishingly the same, even under the hot noon sun in Istanbul. He still had freckles, his eyes were still an alluring shade of green, his face the same shape his way of holding himself maybe a little more self confident but other than that the same. It bothered Roy, because he felt as if those three years of separation had taken a toll on him, and he had half wanted to see those changes in Wally.

 

“Why.” It wasn't a question, though to his surprise Wally didn't flinch from it.

 

“You didn't want to be a lawyer,” those weren't the words Roy'd been expecting. “You wanted to be a cop, in Seattle, but Chicago was closer to Star City than Seattle was.” Seeing that that failed to explain anything Wally took a long drink of his coffee, grimacing slightly at the heat. “I knew if I stayed in Star City you'd stay near by, and I didn't want that for you.”

 

That hit Roy like a punch to the gut, and he knew he must have looked furious. “You left because of me?” _I was the source of my own broken heart?_ he wanted to ask but he didn't dare, “you, you dicked off for three years because I wasn't going to become a fucking cop?”

 

Wally did flinch from that, ducking his head before bring it back up, steeling himself. “I wanted to see the world,” he said, “you didn't, but I knew that if I left you'd either find a way to come with me or find a way to track me down. It wouldn't have-” he cut himself off, frustrated and a little scared sounding, “it would have killed you Roy. So I left.”

 

Roy did not have any clue how to respond, because Wally was sort of right, he'd never really wanted to travel, but Wally had and anyone who thought that there was anything on the planet Roy valued more than Wally was insane. “I promised you,” he said flatly, “and you promised me.”

 

“I know,” Wally sounded much more tired than he had a moment ago, peering up at the blue sky, “but that promise was a mistake.”

 

Roy knew that was his opening, his cue to either leave and face a world without Wally or to stay and face three years of anger and loneliness and regret. Wally was looking expectant, green eyes not at all guarded, full of terror and love and self deprecation.

 

“Which promise?” he asked softly, studying the way the muscles of Wally's face shifted with his surprise and relief. Wally licked his lips, obviously planning the best way to explain himself, and Roy waited patiently while he did so, smiling when he noticed something.

 

The bridge of Wally's nose was burnt.


End file.
